


The Art of Canine Negotiation

by xevinx



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (in a cute way), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Genuinely Saccharine, M/M, Possessive Chilton, ridiculous fluff, teeth-rotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26632381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xevinx/pseuds/xevinx
Summary: It was supposed to be a peaceful, quiet night in watching television. Which it was, for the most part...Frederick just hadn’t anticipated becoming quite so fiercely jealous of a dog.Then again, what washiswashis.
Relationships: Dr. Frederick Chilton/Will Graham
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	The Art of Canine Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fucker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucker/gifts).



> I know it’s been literally forever but here go your Chilton sitting in Will’s lap
> 
> Thank you for bullying me to write and post again king! Only took you two years <3

It was Will’s turn on the Netflix. That usually meant an evening spent in front of a largely benign wildlife documentary, and this evening was no different in that sense. But a few days back, the two of them had come across a new series on the African savannah airing on cable, which meant that lately they found themselves having to suffer through commercials and without pausing for pee breaks.

They sat and watched in a comfortable silence for the most part, side by side on Will’s worn out two-seat couch with the dogs scattered around the room mostly snoozing already. By the first commercial break they had both gravitated towards the centre of the couch, their thighs touching and Frederick resting his head lightly on Will’s upper arm.

Will had a habit of sitting with his feet up on his old log coffee table — Frederick had taken issue with it at first but relented soon after, given there was not much left of the table to preserve. On this night he also discovered an advantage for himself; he could twist his body slightly to throw his own legs over Will’s.

It was just as a famished, solitary lion attempted to creep up on a wildebeest calf on the television screen that Will realised quite how much Frederick had shuffled over towards him, even after the leg manoeuvre.

“Frederick, you— you’re literally sat in my lap. Are you scared?”

“What— _no!”_ protested Chilton. “You’re just warm! Warm and I am freezing to a slow and painful death here because your rusty decades-old oil heater is practically useless.”

With that cleared up, Frederick snuggled closer, twisting towards Will’s previously mentioned warmth like a sunflower chasing beams of light —

Until the next ad break, when he had to reluctantly untangle himself from Will to make them both a cup of tea. It had become a small part of their adjusted routines; the nighttime tea before bed. The blend of chamomile, oatflower and lavender had been rather effective in disposing of their both nightmares—although Frederick supposed, on his part at least, that the restful sleep may have had more to do with the other’s company.

Familiar with Will’s kitchen by now, Frederick moved around with ease, swiftly filling a steam kettle and placing it on the stove as well as teabags in their respective favourite mugs—Will’s being a photo mug of the dogs and Frederick’s being... well, the only other mug Will owned.

He must have only been out of the room for thirty seconds or so. A minute at the very most. But when Chilton returned, he found one of Will’s dogs _in his spot,_ sat square on Will’s lap. It was one of the big boof-y ones too, spilling over unapologetically onto Frederick’s side of the couch.

Will quickly noticed the look of disapproval Frederick was shooting in their direction, and simply shrugged his shoulders, poker face intact.

“Apparently you’re not the only one that thinks I’m the most comfortable seat in the house.”

_ How dare he. _

Frederick crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto one foot. “That is _hardly_ saying much; your ratty armchairs are stuffed with straw that even farm animals would reject. Now tell the dog I want my place back.”

Will chuckled warmly, gaze soft as he looked up at Frederick. Still, he couldn’t help retorting with a correction.

“Farm animals don’t even eat straw; they eat hay. And _the dog_ has a name.”

Frederick scowled and gave a half-hearted attempt at shooing Buster— _yes, he knew his name_ —off the couch before adopting a different approach; trying to grab his attention and almost summon him away from the couch with half-hearted _‘hey!’_ s. Only the sudden whistle of the kettle boiling in the kitchen interrupted his frantic arm-waving.

“This is _not_ over,” Chilton muttered to himself as he marched back to make their tea, determination in his step.

But of course, with his damn luck, the dog was still there when he returned. He could have sworn Buster was taunting him with that curious gaze and hint of an oblivious smile.

“Will!”

Truly exasperated now, Frederick glared at the sight before him as he placed their mugs down on the somewhat out-of-place coasters he had bought Will for Christmas.

Graham only raised his hands in mock surrender, palms facing the other man as he feigned innocence.

“This is between you and him.”

Behind Frederick, the show’s title card lit up the television screen, a bright wide shot of the plains that soon faded into a continuation of the scene from before the ad break. Buster simply watched on intently, looking extremely comfortable.

“What exactly is he trying to watch?” Frederick sighed, defeatedly slumping down on the sad seat beside Will. He directed his next words to the pile of dog hair planted in Will’s lap. “They’re coming for your... kind on there, you know.”

With a nod of his head he gestured pensively towards the screen, where three lions were chasing off a pack of hyenas that had attempted to swipe one of their half-eaten carcasses. “ _That..._ is what can happen when you choose not to respect territory.”

Buster turned his head momentarily and only blinked blankly at Chilton before snuggling further into Will’s lap.

_ The little bastard. _

Allowing a slight smirk to pass over his lips in spite of himself, Will kept his gaze fixed straight ahead on the television.

“I don’t think he understands your empty threa— Wait, I’m _your territory_ now?”

“Damn right you are,” huffed Frederick in response. He rose to his feet once more in a final attempt to coax Buster down. "Buster... _please!_ Come on, go and sit down there...”

Responding—just barely—to his name, Buster stirred a little, paused for a few more seconds and then plopped off of Will’s lap to rest at his feet instead.

Just like that.

“Finally.”

Without a hint of hesitation in it, Frederick then threw the weight of his body towards the couch again, sinking into the dip between the two couch cushions triumphantly. He threw his legs over Will’s, this time perfectly perpendicular to the other man’s body, and bent his knees so that he could nestle his feet against the arm of the couch. Will’s chest, meanwhile, was the perfect place to rest his side against and Frederick sighed happily as he did so. 

“My territory,” he said through a smug smile.

“You had better not pee on me.”

Frederick scoffed, eyes rolling skyward. “As long as he does not do that again.”

As they turned their attention back to the television, Will lifted his hand to absentmindedly stroke Frederick’s head where it rested against his shoulder. Frederick nuzzled into his chest in response, revelling in Will’s wonderfully soothing scent of old wood and godawful aftershave.

It was only towards the end of the third and final ad break that Frederick noticed Will’s other hand had crept up his legs and was now sitting suspiciously high on his thigh. Fingers on his inner thigh, even.

“Um, Will...?”

“You know what, Frederick? I think I could get used to this arrangement.”

With his other hand, Will slowly splayed his fingers in the hair on the back of Frederick’s head, tugging gently—woefully gently—at the roots. Frederick pulled back a touch to meet his gaze.

“Why is that?” he breathed out, the wind already knocked out of his chest.

“Makes it easier to do this...”

Will tipped his head down for a demonstration, not that there were any doubts about what his intentions were at that point. He kissed Frederick hard and dirty, open-mouthed and insistent, all while sliding that hand in his lap... _further up_. Firmly so.

But once more, the title card of the show filled the living room with light and just like that, Will went back to watching the television. As if he hadn’t just obliterated Frederick’s focus entirely.

_Well_. Two could play at that game.

Frederick reached up to grab a hold of Will’s shirt collar with both hands, tugging him down ungracefully as he lay himself backwards across the couch. Startled as his lips were seized again, Will swung his legs down off the coffee table so abruptly that he almost knocked their mugs clean off it too.

So much for their quiet night in.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is... not great I’m incredibly rusty but these two will forever have a place in my heart
> 
> I’m @euthymea on tumblr now if anyone wants to come chat about them <3


End file.
